The night before Christmas, Miata style

Excuse me as I don't remember where I copied this years ago:

Twas the night before race day and all through the shop,
not an engine was running, not even a pop.
The awning was folded and packed up with care
in the hope that the weather was nice, warm and fair.

The miatas were strapped to their trailer tilt-beds,
with visions of splat-chargers bolted to their heads.
I in my nomex, and ma in her long sleeve cotton white tee,
had just laid out the route for the tow the next day.

When out on the road there arose such a roar,
I sprang from my workbench to see what was in store.
Away to the driveway I flew like a rocket,
knocking over my tookbox, and dropping a socket.

The speeding headlights yon, hither and near,
lit up the roadsigns like a startled deer.
when, what to my blinking eyes should appear,
but a miniature sports car with turbos galore.

With a wild eyed driver, string-backs on his hand,
I knew in a second, it was Tom Matano--the man.
As he double-clutched, shifted and revved to redline
he waved with his headlights and called us by name:

"Hail Miata dot Netters, and friends far and near
I wish you good tidings, and deep xmas cheer.
May your miatas be topless, the spare stay in the boot,
and your sticky street tires never stray from the route."

As dry leaves before dual exhaust tips do fly,
he quick turned the corner at a speed oh so high,
up to the workshop the course did he drive
a new Miata R model, with Tom had arrived.

And then in an instant I knew the whole truth,
the new model was similar, nay still a youth.
Its lines were still sculpted with feminine flair
and popup or flush, the headlights are still there.

The stump of a shifter still stifts with a snikt,
and the soft top still drops with two latches unclicked.
The guages are quaint with a historic round face,
and a suspension unmatched and equipped for a race.

A project long planned by enthused engineers,
the design wins folks over, even those prone to sneer.
The engine still sweet, dual cams overhead,
works fine in stock form or improve it instead.

Tom spoke not a word, neither english nor japanese,
and he rolled from the car pressing both hands on his knees.
A slight of the hand and the jingle of key,
as it and the title were handed to me.

I hopped into the seat, and buckled right in,
knowing he'd ride too as I took it for a spin.
With a squeal and chirp of the tire so dear
I sped off into the night, wishing all a Great year.